


Fuck the Process

by MidnightMcdonalds



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Abandonment, C-PTSD, Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, F/M, Michael De Santa Has PTSD, PTSD RECOVERY, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Reader is a therapist, Therapy, Trauma, Trevor Philips Has PTSD, Trust Issues, anger issues, complex PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMcdonalds/pseuds/MidnightMcdonalds
Summary: In which Michael De Santa ends up with a stand in therapist when Dr. Friedlander is investigated on malpractice charges.  In which you are a therapist focused on trauma therapy.I just wanted Mikey to have a beneficial therapist.
Relationships: Michael De Santa & Original Female Character(s), Michael De Santa & Reader, Michael De Santa & Trevor Philips
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Fuck the Process

Michael huffed, his shoulders slouched as he lugged himself to Dr. Friedlander’s office. He really, really hated it here. It was like a weight was on his chest, clenching down on his heart whenever he even thought about coming over to Vespucci, and dragging himself over to his mandatory therapy. He never has liked the bastard, with his condescending fuckin’ face, and his punchable-ass teeth. Whenever Michael even thought about actually trying to better himself in this humid ass office he wanted to run and hide; or maybe shoot something. It felt fucking suffocating.

As he lugged himself up the next to claustro-fucking-phobic stairway he noticed something peculiar. The air was slightly cooler, and there was a faint scent of vanilla wafting into his nose from Friedlander’s office. He furrowed his brows, and hesitated to step through the doorway. Had he changed out the curtains? Those ugly ass curtains that had been there since he fuckin’ started coming to this stupid mandatory fuckin’

Oh. He stopped as he stepped through the doorway, seeing a very-much-not Dr. Friedlander bent over, ruffling through the manila folders stuffed annoyingly perfectly into the filing cabinet close to the new light grey curtains; probably searching for his file(s) if he had to guess. The real question was who the fuck, and why the fuck? He supposed that was two, but his inquiries still remained.

As the woman stood to her full height, which wasn’t very tall he noted, the dark messy bun on top of her head bobbed. She seemed started as she saw him, but quickly recovered with unsettling quickness.

“Mr. De Santa!” She chimed, moving towards him somewhat carefully, as if he were some sort of easily fuckin’ startled deer or something. “I assume you have some questions. You can of course sit if you’d like, make yourself comfortable, there’s some water over there-“ She pointed to a cooler in the corner as she spoke, and he followed her motion. “If you’d like something to drink. I know the humidity can get suffocating sometimes.” She huffed, smiling absentmindedly. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, or how he felt about it, but one thing he did know; This was about to be very good, or very, very bad. He sat, but only because he felt he had to, his jaw tightening and he picked at the loose string on his suit pants.

The woman sat, who he noticed seemed very young, and scrunched her brows at his file. Oh here we go, he thought. Let’s get this fuckin’ over with, have her running scared before this even begins. He nearly flinched as she tossed the file onto the desk nearby, crossing a leg over another and clasping her hands together in her lap.

“Alright. Gonna get right to it since I know you’re probably incredibly confused right now, and correct me if I’m wrong this may be an incredibly anxiety inducing situation for you. The unknown, can be terrifying at times.” She explained, grabbing a notepad he didn’t recognize, tapping a pencil onto it seeming to be deep in thought.

“Dr. Friedlander is facing malpractice charges, which left the state needing to find someone to take over for his client’s therapy, and to carry on with their recovery if they wish.” She explained, causing him to raise his brows in surprise. “If at any time you become uncomfortable, please, feel free to let me know if you need a break, or if you’d like to leave all-together. I know this is an incredibly unconventional situation, and I would completely understand if you didn’t want to be here right now.”

The way she spoke put Michael at ease more than the rat bastard ever did, so he decided to stay. At least for a while. “Considering the charges he is facing I don’t plan to take any notes he made too seriously if you decide you want to stay in treatment with me.” He was so surprised, shell-shocked really; He’d never felt this welcome here.

“Anyhow, I would like to give you a quick run-down of my certifications quickly before we begin.” For the first time he responded with a nod and a small hum; She smiled brightly in return. “Alright, I specialize in trauma focused therapy, although whatever you need, wether that be just plain-old talking, or something more intensive. It’s ultimately up to you.” She paused, her smile faltering slightly as she tilted her head.

“I know sometimes it’s easier to just, vent almost uncontrollably in a place like this, and I hope one day you’ll be ready for that.” He furrowed his brows, confused. He always just ranted his head off in here, he felt almost attacked in a way, like he was losing something, but he decided to hear her out. “Sometimes we can open wounds we aren’t ready to deal with. Wether that be something day to day life stirs up, or something more extreme.”

She sighed, settling back into her chair a bit. “Now that I’ve blabbed your head off-“ She chuckled, and his lips slowly twitched into a small smile. “If you’d like to tell me a bit about yourself, that’d be wonderful.” She said genuinely. 

He gulped, clearing his throat. “Uh, well. My life is kind of a clusterfuck-“ She held up her hand, stopping him. “I mean about you, what you like to do, what you do to relax, have fun. Your friends, people you enjoy, happy things. Things that bring you joy.” He stopped with his mouth hung halfway open. This was different to say the least. 

“Well, I like to uh, lounge in my backyard.” She nodded, listening to him intently. He felt motivated to continue with her looking at him so encouragingly. “Have a well-aged cigar, a chilled glass of bourbon. Just listening to music ya know? Escape from reality.” She nodded her head again, smiling. “That sounds wonderful, Michael. What kind of music do you like?”

He hummed, already knowing his answer. He felt at ease. “Like classic rock a lot. Although sometimes I like a bit more guitar.” She smiled even wider, he eyes glistening in the sun. He knew that look, he’d found something in common with her. She noticed the look on his face as well it seemed, shifting in her chair, leaning forward slightly. “I grew up listening to rock, some AC/DC here and there. I lean more toward heavy metal, lot’s of guitar, bass. Although I don’t stick to one genre all the time rock will always have a special place in my heart.” He smiled, genuinely having a bit of happiness. He frowned suddenly, he felt off.

He wasn’t ranting mindlessly about Jimmy being a lazy dick, or Amanda’s latest cheating fiasco, or about Tracey getting herself involved in the wrong crowds. He suddenly realized it didn’t feel right to not be fucking pissed. She tilted her head at him, questioning his sudden mood change. “Something in-particular on your mind, Michael?”

He sighed audibly, slouching against the back of the couch. “It-“ He started, hesitating. This felt like a different kind of vulnerable to him, he didn’t know if he was ready. “It’s alright.” She said almost quietly. He did feel like a deer now, caught in headlights, traumatic memories of loss and pain flashing behind his eyes all too quickly. He appreciated the quiet approach this time, although the lingering anger, mixed with blistering fear was still present. “You don’t have to say.” She said so passionately it felt like a promise; Perhaps it was.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, and he tensed. Friedlander always cut him off so abruptly, right before he felt like he was getting somewhere. Then he’d raise the price of the bills, causing his stress to rise, making him itch to plan a heist. “We’re gonna need to wrap up soon because I need to meet another patient-“ She began, and his heart clenched. “How would you like to spend the rest of our time today?” She queried, and his heart skipped a beat. He felt so cared for.

“Would you be open to learning a calming exercise?” She asked carefully, feeling out his limits. “If not that’s perfectly okay, I know sometimes things like that can be anxiety inducing to some.”

He gulped, feeling almost too cared about. It felt unnatural. “If you’d like I can just show you? You don’t have to try it today.” She said it so heart-fully it again felt like a vow. He nodded hesitantly. 

“Alright, fairly simple exercise for our first one.” She adjusted herself in her chair. “I’m sure you may have heard of deep breathing?” She asked, and he nodded, confirming her assumption. “I know it can be annoying to hear ‘just breathe’ in moments of high stress, so today before we come to a close I’d like to explain the science behind it.” She places her hands on her stomach. “When we breath in, and sigh.” She did as such as she spoke. “We’re de-escalating our stress or anxiety levels. It’s the body’s way of calming us, but we can learn how to do it properly on our own. “When you breathe this way properly, you stimulate your vagus nerve, which releases endorphins into your body.” She inhaled and exhaled again, slowly breathing out. 

“When you breathe deeply, you want to breath through your stomach, expanding it as you breathe instead of your chest.” She explained, demonstrating once again.

She continued on with her explanation, showing him how to breath, and to hold a breath before releasing slowly. He watched intently, before she spoke again. 

“Our time is up, but I hope to see you again.” She smiled assuringly. “You made tremendous progress today, Michael.” She said, and a bit of pride swelled in his chest. “Thank you.” He said quietly. 

She smiled before walking with him down those stairs and out to his car, wishing him farewell, and asking him if he’d try to practice some deep breathing on his own. That even if he came back and told her he hated it, that she’d be proud and happy he tried. 

With that he went on his way, feeling happier leaving that office than he had in a decade.


End file.
